Miscellany Mondays: Skating on Baker's Meadow Pond, "...here was the gathering place of dozens of children and adults every weekend enjoying at least 10 acres of open ice to explore and play."
Miscellany Mondays: Skating on Baker's Meadow Pond, "...here was the gathering place of dozens of children and adults every weekend enjoying at least 10 acres of open ice to explore and play."
Today we welcome a new History Buzz writer! Jim Batchelder shares his memories of skating on ponds around Andover, and the "carnage" of hockey, snap-the-whip, and barrel jumping.
Historian, artist, and new History Buzz writer Jim Batchelder’s family history in Andover dates back to the 1700s. Be sure to read all the way through for Jim’s wonderful description of “the most peaceful day I ever spent skating.” If you ever skated outside on a pond, this will speak to you!
Skating on Neighborhood Ponds
The recent History Buzz post on skates got me thinking about skating in my neighborhood on Argilla Road.
In our attic was a large cardboard box filled with old hand-me-down skates and our winter boots. The skates had belonged to our aunts and uncles who grew up on my grandparent’s farm Rolling Acres.
We lived next door, and the farm was our personal 110-acre playground, which included a small pond behind the farmhouse about the size of a standard hockey rink.
There were many skating sessions on that pond from 1930 through the 1950s. The south end of the pond drained into a marsh of cattails and a small brook that wended its way on down to Baker’s Meadow. When we were infants our parents pushed us around on the ice in a red carriage sleigh with a plush silk cushion back that had been used when my Dad was an infant.
There is a great photo of my parents on the pond with my sister Faith in the sleigh during the winter of 1944.
My Dad was on shore leave from his ship, and this was the first time he was able to spend time at home and bond with his daughter before heading back on duty.
My Uncles David and Loring, Aunt Priscilla, and my Dad’s dog “Skipper” joined the celebration.
My two sisters, Faith and Terry, and I all learned to skate on that pond, as did my Dad’s siblings. Training began with metal double runner skates that actually strapped on over your shoes or boots. Once you got the knack of standing, pushing off and gliding across the ice, you were free to test your limits of your endurance to the elements and conditions of the ice.
When I finally grew and graduated to old standard hockey skates, the box held just two sizes - large and larger. No problem! Two pairs of woolen socks on my feet and one pair rolled up into the toe of the skates made for a cozy fit. My Mum’s Scottish mantra was the “Coolidge Credo” — “Use it up, Wear it out, Make it do, Do without!”
There were many late afternoons on the pond after school with us and our Border Collie “Chief” who always wanted to join the fun. Fetch the stick was always a good laugh as Chief slipped and slid on the ice in his attempt to pick up the stick and stop at the same time.
When we were older we graduated to the big pond at Baker’s Meadow.
(At one time the farm land extended down to the pond which was then called “Little Hope Meadow.” The shore line was sold off in 1927 to the Henderson family who rebuilt the dam and encircled the meadow with wire mesh fencing. They were attempting to create a muskrat farm which failed after the stock market crash in 1929 and the Depression that followed. )
The trek to the pond was a straight shot through our back yard, over the brook, up the knoll, and into the woods. We hopped over a stone wall then past a patch of Princess Pine and Winterberry then descended down an old wagon lane to the meadow.
With our skates slung over our shoulders, laces tied together, we sat down on a rock to put them on. The pond was shallow and we had to wind our way out through reeds and brush protruding through the ice to get to the open area in the middle of the pond. Here was the gathering place of dozens of children and adults every weekend enjoying at least 10 acres of open ice to explore and play.
As the winter months rolled on, we never knew what condition the meadow would be in the next time we arrived. Long cold stretches with warm days produced the best smooth surface for skating. After a snow storm, we arrived with shovels in hand.
My Mum grew up on Moraine Street and added this memory.
“There used to be a small pond back in the woods behind our house. All the kids in the neighborhood skated there. After a snow we would go down and clear off the ice. Then the boys would come and take over the pond to play hockey. It made us very angry. I broke my ankle skating there. My leg was in a cast for weeks.”
To be honest this, too, was repeated at Baker’s Meadow from time to time, but there always seemed to be enough room to accommodate everyone.
Hockey games were always in play whether it was one on one or a dozen boys of all ages slapping the puck around. The goals were always makeshift at best — sticks placed down on the ice only to be scattered about when defending the goal. There were many disputes if the puck actually made it into the zone. I also remember the day a neighborhood German Shepard arrived on the ice, grabbed the puck and took off with it. The chase was on but the dog won as he reached shore first and headed up Reservation Road. You would think that with all the gang, we would have had a spare puck but we didn’t. A pine cone was substituted, but the game was essentially over.
The girls were a tad more civilized skating all over the pond practicing their form and attempting to do spins and jumps in their figure skates. They, too, had their moments when they caught an edge in a crack in the ice, or hit an embedded object and took a hard spill.
They were also the ones who would begin the line for Snap-the-Whip, the one game the boys always joined in on. Imagine 10 to 15 skaters, hand in hand, skating as fast as they can when the lead point turns and stops, spinning the line into a circular motion. Speed increases and the ones on the far end get the ride of a lifetime before centrifugal force pulls your hands apart. If you are lucky everyone still ends up standing on their skates. A trip or fall could leave the whole line prone on the ice.
In 1961 the Wide World of Sports also introduced us to Barrel Jumping, once an Olympic sport connected to Speed skating.
We didn’t have barrels on the pond, but we played it like “Long Jump” with two sticks place farther apart after each leap was made successfully. Can we talk about “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat?”
These ice games produced more injuries than the entire hockey and snap the whip games combined. There was always carnage of some kind and no cell phones to call home. You had to suck it up, limp home, and face the music when you got there.
Jim remembers…
When I was in high school, I went down to the meadow to skate. When I got there, no one was out on the ice. There was a light dusting of snow covering most of the pond except where the wind had blown patches away revealing perfectly smooth thick ice below. It was late in the day with the sun casting long shadows across the surface and an occasional gust of wind blowing snow off the pines.
It was magical, quiet, and the most peaceful day I ever spent skating. I glided around the entire perimeter of the pond in and out of every nook and cove and over to inspect the dam.
My trail easily followed in the virgin snow as I headed back to the center of the meadow. I attempted a figure eight in the snow just to leave my mark. I heard a dog barking in the distance and wondered if it was the puck thief. I took it all in as I stood motionless out in the middle of that wonderful place. Just me and nature!
And the best part of all of this was it was absolutely free. . . and so was I.
Thank you, Jim, for sharing your story!
Starting with this story, Jim will be an ongoing History Buzz contributor. We’re looking forward to sharing his writings with you.
Thanks for reading!
~Elaine
What a lovely story. Thank you. I also have wonderful memories of skating on Baker's Meadow (some with your sister Faith!) and also at the small pond in the West Parish Cemetery behind the chapel.
What a delightful and fond memory of the pond. Your story and pictures were so well presented and brought back my childhood skating experiences on the pond behind the barn where I lived in Stow Massachusetts. Thank you.